


The Doctor's Companion

by Ebenbild



Category: Doctor Who, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-06 23:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebenbild/pseuds/Ebenbild
Summary: "Say, old man," Joe asked, driven by his curiosity. "Isn't it lonely after a while?""Isn't what lonely?""Living," Joe replied. "I guess it can get lonely after a while - especially if there's nobody you can truly talk to and be you anymore…"If Joe just had known that the oldest Immortal actually enjoyed the few years of piece he actually had in his life full of action and danger, he might have never asked…Or: While the Doctor hasn't always known Methos, oddly enough, Methos seemed to have always known the Doctor...A story about an unusual friendship.





	The Doctor's Companion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm much too young to own the "Highlander"-series or "Doctor Who" – so definitely not mine…  
> Placing:All over both series.  
> Warning: I don't own any of those two series and might have forgotten a detail or two, so if there are some incorrect things, I plead creative licence. xD

* * *

* * *

# THE DOCTOR'S COMPANION

 

* * *

 

****

" _ **Say, why do you tell me everything about the world when you're sure that I won't be able to stay with you?"**_

_With those words, a little boy-child's journey would begin – interwoven with the one who decided to teach him everything he might have to know in some distance future…_

 

* * *

 

If asked later on, the oldest Immoral of the world would always blame Joe for everything that would happen after his interested inquiry one evening after closing time at the bar – but then, truthfully, when Joe had asked, the most had already happened a long, long time ago.

Nevertheless, a simple question was the beginning and just a simple part in the middle of the odd life that the oldest Immortal lived…

"Say, old man," Joe asked, driven by his curiosity. "Isn't it lonely after a while?"

"Isn't what lonely?"

"Living," Joe replied. "I guess it can get lonely after a while - especially if there's nobody you can truly talk to and be you anymore…"

_If Joe just had known that the oldest Immortal actually enjoyed the few years of piece he actually had in his life full of action and danger, he might have never asked…_

 

* * *

 

The first time Don Salzar met Adam Pierson - at least a month before said kid actually joined the Watchers on Don's recommendation - he found him sitting in an alleyway on the dirty ground, cursing.

"That damn meddling, ever living idiot with all his different faces! I swear if he forgot me somewhere in the Middle Ages or Sumer or heavens forbid in the time of the dinosaur again, I swear I will force him into a damn regeneration!"

That last part actually caught Don's attention.

_**Regeneration.** _

While it wasn't a word normally used for the resurrection of an Immortal after he died, the idea was close enough to actually get Don's attention.

_That kid... was he acquainted with an Immortal and knew about their difference compared to the normal mortal?!_

Don knew, that the Watchers were always in search for kids like that - people who knew about the Immortals, who had contact with them or witnessed one of their resurrections. On the other hand, Don had actually never dreamed about stumbling upon one in-the-know in such a dark alleyway with nobody - not even the Immortal in question - around. Normally, Watchers stumbled upon people like that after the fight of two Immortals or after an accident that had temporally killed one of the Immortals - and not in the middle of nowhere...

Nevertheless, Don stepped cautiously closer to the kid on the ground. Maybe, a friendly start into a conversation might help with getting the answers he was looking for - and even if he was wrong, a kid sitting in the middle of a dark alleyway wasn't normal, so the least Don could do was actually play the good Samaritan once in a while...

"Y'all right, kid?" He asked gruffly and the kid - maybe something between seventeen and twenty years old - turned around and looked at him with a frown. For a moment, the boy's eyes narrowed and he looked around suspiciously. Then his narrowed, sharp eyes met those of Don head-on.

"You're talking English," he commented as if talking English was a feat not everybody with English as a native tongue was capable of. "Modern English."

Don raised an amused eyebrow at the man on the floor.

"We're in Seacouver," he answered amused.

The boy just looked at him blankly, so Don elaborated.

"It's Seacouver," he repeated. "It's part of the US."

"So?" The boy asked, his eyes still narrowed. "Modern English -"

"That's what we talk here in the twentieth century," Don interrupted the boy matter-of-factly, still not sure how to take the kid's exclamation.

The kid's eyes cleared at that and he looked up and actively around the alleyway as if he was seeing it for the first time.

"At least the bastard didn't leave me in the middle of a nest full of dinosaur again," he mumbled to himself, and shook his head, maybe in amusement, maybe in resignation. "Twentieth century. Guess I'm at least somewhat near home this time around..."

Then the boy shook his head again, still obviously contemplating his absent companion.

"Guess the bastard's got his lucky day and I won't force him into another regeneration today."

Again that word.

_**Regeneration.** _

Don frowned.

It still sounded a lot like 'Immortal' in Don's ears - and yet, it also sounded oddly... _different_.

"Regeneration?" He repeated and the kid's eyes widened, clearly not having expected to be overheard by Don.

"Er... just empty threats you know - like the idea of a cat having multiple lives and all that!" The boy tried to get Don of his trace, but Don knew what he had heard and he already suspected what the boy's exclamation actually entailed.

'Regeneration' or not - Don was now sure that the boy had actually been talking about an Immortal... and those had always been Watchers' business.

There was just one thing to do to make it certain, to insure that Don was right with what he already knew to be true...

"Like Immortality?" Don countered and yeah, maybe he shouldn't have been that forward with his guess, but he had never been the most subtle of person, so that was as good as he got.

The boy's eyes narrowed at that. For a moment, he clearly contemplated what to say. And Don, with his old Watcher nose, knew that the boy would lie, lie and deny if he didn't stop the whole thing now.

"Like Immortals," he added, stopping the kid from saying anything contrary to what Don knew to be true.

For a second, the boy looked at him sharply, his eyes oddly old for such a young person. Then the boy's eyes sharpened on Don's own, making him uncomfortable in a way he hadn't felt since he had painted his mother's petunia purple when he was three.

"How do you know about Immortals?" The boy asked, his voice suddenly icy.

_**Bingo.** _

_Maybe, sometimes subtlety was a bit overrated..._

_Still, it didn't hurt to be a bit cautious as well..._

"I have known about them for years already," Don answered, trying to reassure the kid, which was rewarded with a lessening of the glare the kid had aimed at him. "I guess the one who left you here in the alleyway in the middle of the night was one of them?"

The boy just continued to stare at Don.

"And if they were?" He countered, clearly unwilling to admit that fact - and it was a fact. There was nothing else that would fit otherwise.

_Distrust._

Not good at all if Don wanted at least information about the as-of-yet unknown Immortal.

"Don't worry, I don't want to hurt your friend. There's a reason why I know about them," he told the kid while holding up his hands to show that he was harmless.

Instantly, the boy's eyes narrowed down onto the Watcher's tattoo that now showed from beneath Don's sleeve.

"You're one of them, one of those Watch-guys," the kid said coolly, combining facts more rapidly than Don had ever seen before.

Obviously, the kid's immortal friend knew about the Watchers. There were always some Immortals who found out about Watchers over the time of their life, so it wasn't that surprising that an Immortal actually knew about them - the only thing that was surprising was the fact that the Immortal had actually told the kid about the Watchers and his immortality, meaning, that the kid and he were more than just casual acquaintances.

That fact alone ensured that the kid would be highly thought after for his knowledge...

"I am," Don finally decided to answer the boy straight-forward. "Considering that you know about the Watchers, I guess that my guess about your friend was correct. They're Immortal, aren't they?"

The boy just looked at Don in distrust.

"Like I said before," he finally replied coolly after Don wasn't so sure anymore if he could hold the kid's gaze for another second or two. "What if they were?"

Oh, Don knew that he could answer that question with multiple answers - every one of them as right as the other - but he also knew that the boy would never even consider Don's offer if Don told him any of them. The kid was young, the kid was abandoned - so to get through to the kid, Don had to invoke emotions and not logical thinking...

"Then they clearly left you to fend for yourself from now on," Don answered calmly. He had seen enough Immortals in action to know that leaving a mortal, abandoning them like the kid had been, always ended with the Immortal never returning.

_Sadly, the kid didn't know that fact of life, yet..._

"He will return," the boy said. "It's not the first time he has forgotten me somewhere in history."

Don thought that the sentence sounded a bit odd, but he guessed that in the end it didn't matter what the kid hoped. It was clear by the fact that the kid was sitting on the ground in an out-of-the-way alleyway with a look of abandonment on his face that the Immortal in question would never return.

It didn't matter, how long the boy had lived with or known said Immortal. He had been left - and he hadn't been left just for a few hours, but for another life.

"Why do you think your friend will return?" Don asked sympathetically. "Do you truly believe that he left you here in that alleyway just to return to you in an hour or two?"

For a moment, the kid just looked at Don. Then he sighed and curled up into a ball which made him look even younger than he probably was.

_Maybe, the kid had been raised by the Immortal in question..._

"It's not the first time he left me somewhere," the boy pointed out and hid his face between his knees, clearly weary and tired. "He goes out there, finds another companion or two, but in the end, he will return. He always does."

But it sounded resigned even in Don's ears.

"I'm sure he will," Don said, not believing it the slightest but also unable to crush the boy's hope after the boy had clearly been abandoned just minutes ago. "But until then, you might be interested in keeping an eye out for your friend..."

Immediately, the boy's sharp gaze penetrated Don's own.

"I won't betray him - especially not to your organization!"

_Huh, obviously, someone who thought they knew enough about the Watchers to judge them..._

There was just one thing Don could do, one thing to reassure the boy, even if he lied.

"You won't have to betray them," he said. "But you can watch over them with our help."

When the boy's eyes finally showed some interest, Don wanted to smile.

He had the boy's cooperation.

_It wouldn't take long to bring the kid into their fold now..._

One and a half months later, Adam Pierson was Don Salzar's protégé and a proud member of the research section of the Watchers.

Oddly enough, the only comment he ever made about the Immortal that ensured his acceptance into the Watchers was not the one everybody else had been expecting.

"Oh, him," Adam said when asked. "He's that mad man in a blue box - not important at all."

 

* * *

 

Two people sat next to each other in Joe's bar. The bar was full and they weren't observed by anybody else in the bar. For all the others knew, them sitting next to each other was nothing but coincidence – and maybe that mistaken thought was something both preferred.

"You know," one of them said, leaning back on his chair. "I've still not met you yet for the first time – somehow odd, considering I'm in my last regeneration…"

The man next to him smirked at that, before taking a sip of his beer.

"You want to tell me you don't remember meeting me for the first time, Doctor?" He asked amused.

The Doctor pouted.

"I remember the first time I met you," he corrected. "I just don't remember the first time _you_ met _**me**_."

At that distinction the Immortal's smirk just broadened.

"It was the same time," he replied amused.

The Doctor next to him just shot him a disbelieving look.

"You knew my name," he pointed out.

The Immortal just took a swig of his beer.

"So?"

"You actually knew my name – my Gallifreyan name! And I'm not even talking about the fact that you can actually speak Gallifreyan without breaking your tongue trying to do it," the Doctor countered.

The Immortal just grinned at that then he leaned closer to the Doctor to whisper something in his ear.

A name, unspoken for longer than most could remember left the Immortal's lips.

Then the Immortal leaned back again to drink some of his beer.

"That name?" He asked, smirking at the Doctor. "You told it to me when we met for the first time."

The Doctor just stared at the Immortal next to him, serious for once in his life.

"I never told you my name," he disagreed immediately. "I would remember if I had."

The Immortal just clasped his shoulder in compassion.

"Maybe, for once you don't," he replied amused. "Maybe, Tot, for once you don't…"

 

* * *

 

When Joe met Adam, he soon found out that Adam... was a bit different than any person Joe had ever met. It wasn't the fact that Adam was part of the Watchers and a researcher. It wasn't even his youthful personality, tempered by odd bouts of wisdom more known to be found in old men than in young researchers, or the fact that the kid was drinking beer as if it was water...

It wasn't even Don's steady try to gain access to the Immortal Adam had known before joining the Watchers and Adam's refusal to say anything about him.

"C'mon, Adam," Don said pleadingly. "Do you truly still think that he will come back for you after all this time?"

Adam just shrugged and sipped on his beer.

"He has always come back and he will always come back – that's his nature, after all," was his calm reply.

"You could at least let us search in the archives for him," Don suggested. "Maybe we'll find him –"

"We won't," Adam replied, waving it off. "It's absolutely impossible to track were in history he's currently at."

And what an odd statement that had been – nearly as odd as Adam himself…

No, Joe gathered, Adam was odd – and yet, he could be odder still, especially if he was accused of being odd just shortly before…

"You're an odd man, Adam," Joe pointed out one evening at the bar.

Adam just raised an eyebrow at that in amusement.

"Why'd you think that, Joseph?" He asked.

"Because that's what you are, no thinking needed," Joe answered with an eye roll. "It's as if we're missing half of your life sometimes just in between a day or two."

Adam just smiled at Joe mysteriously.

"Maybe that's because you actually miss half of my life in between a day or two," he replied. "Who knows – maybe I can age millennia just within one night."

"Very funny, Pierson," Joe dryly replied. "For that, I should force you to help me out at my bar, tomorrow."

Adam just raised an eyebrow at the other man.

"Why?" He countered. "You unable to do your job tomorrow?"

Joe rolled his eyes.

"Actually," he said. "Mike's ill and I need someone to man the bar while I play my guitar…"

"And you asked me," Adam asked incredulously.

"You're the best option," Joe countered. "Don trusts you, you're part of the Watchers and you obviously have experience with bartending."

When Adam raised an eyebrow at that, Joe shrugged.

"I saw you helping out Mike two weeks ago. I recognize an experienced bartender if I see one," Joe countered amused.

Adam stared at the older man for a moment or two, then he sighed.

"Alright," he gave in, clearly a bit unhappy. "I'll help you out – but just tomorrow, you understand?"

"Thanks, Pierson."

Of course, it was then that Adam decided to display his oddness…

"Hadn't you promised me to help me out with my bar for today yesterday?" Joe asked the man leaning on his counter again, a bottle of beer in his hand and with no obvious intention of doing what he had promised just a day ago.

Adam took a sip from his bottle and seemed to contemplate the whole thing.

"I did?" He finally asked. "Sorry, can't remember."

Joe stared at the man barely out of school with a frown.

"How come you can remember what books Don sold on the day before Christmas a year ago but can't remember that you promised to help me out for today yesterday?" He asked, sounding a bit suffering.

The young Watcher just blinked at him innocently.

"It was quite some time ago when I promised that to you," he remarked. "I might have a superb memory - but even I forget a thing or two over time."

 _**Some time ago** _ _._

 _Did the brat just tell him he promised Joe the whole thing_ _**some time ago** _ _?!_

Obviously, Adam had decided to take Joe's statement of his oddness literally by forgetting something he had promised while sober just twenty-four hours ago and then adding to the whole thing by calling that time difference 'some time ago'.

"Even I can remember things I promised for longer than twenty-four hours, Pierson," he said with a frown. "And I'm an old man compared to you."

Adam looked him over at that.

"Old is relative," he countered and Joe sighed and rolled his eyes.

"We're not talking about Immortals, here, Adam," he countered. "This is from one mortal to another. Forgetting things like that in such a short time isn't normal, Adam."

Adam waved it off.

"It was longer than just a short time for me, Joseph," he countered. "Don't worry 'bout it too much."

Joe just looked at the young man in disbelief.

"You promised me yesterday night, Pierson," he pointed out. "That's not long ago – no matter how you look at it. After all, it's not as if we're immortal and there were millennia between your promise and today!"

Adam just looked at him innocently.

"It at least feels like that for me," he reasoned, before sighing and emptying his bottle of beer. "But alright. I'll help you out, no need to get grumpy, old man."

Of course, it didn't help Adam's… _otherness_ at all when he insisted on phoning an old friend when the kitchen sink started to behave oddly just a bit later in the night... and considering that the man showed up in a leather jacket and a 'sonic screwdriver' in one hand… let's just say, it didn't help with Joe's impression of the oddness that was Adam Pierson at all…

 

* * *

 

When Javic Piotr Thane – better known as Captain Jack Harkness fell, the most he expected was to be killed by one of the aliens after him - again, he should add. After all, for Jack it was a fact, that nobody would help him... not even the Doctor.

"Not a companion," Jack reminded himself while he tried to come to his feet before the aliens got him. "Not a companion, not his problem."

Then the aliens were above him. Jack turned, looking up at those who would end his life this time around. His eyes met those of the alien's...

There was Death in the alien's eyes. Jack looked in the alien's eyes and Death looked back at him.

Then the alien fell to its knees, green blood straining its body.

And Death looked back at Jack, eyebrow raised and unbothered by his deed.

Then Death held out a hand for Jack to take.

"How 'bout I help you out this time around, Javic?" Death asked him, his eyes calm and the sword in his hands dripping with blood and on his lips a name Jack had never told him… a name that Jack had held close to his heart for most of his life.

**_Yet, Death had spoken it._ **

_Had spoken it as if it was the most natural thing to do on the world…_

That thought stopped Jack's mind from processing anything for at least a minute or more… just to slip away in the fact of something else…

"You're... one of the Doctor's companions," was the only thing Jack was capable of saying.

Death just looked at him in amusement.

"I'm not a companion of the Doctor in the usual sense, Javic," Death replied amused. "At least not like Clara, Rose or Sarah Jane."

"He takes you with him through time and space," Jack countered.

Death showed his teeth.

"And forgets me everywhere in history. No, I'm quite unlike his usual companions," he told Jack amused.

Jack looked at Death oddly at that, but before he could think about replying, Death gestured towards the invading aliens.

"Now - need a hand?" He asked.

"Won't the Doctor be upset if you kill them?" He asked.

Death just looked at him, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

"Unlike you, the Doctor is quite well aware who and what I am. He of all people knows that I can't go against my nature just to please him - and he doesn't expect me to, Javic Piotr Thane," he countered. "Now come. Let's stop this."

For a moment, Jack just stared into Death's eyes – then he nodded sharply and took Death's hand.

The Doctor might not agree with what they were about to do, but Captain Jack Harkness – Javic Piotr Thane – would be damned if he didn't keep this world safe even without the Doctor...

 

* * *

 

When the door to Joe's Bar opened and an oddly looking man in a tweet entered, the only person in the room who didn't look up, was Adam Pierson, freshman Watcher and assistant of one Don Salzar.

"Hello!" The man in the tweet greeted the room, grinning from ear to ear before stepping up to the bar and taking a seat next to the only person not looking at him.

Joe Dawson, Watcher of Duncan MacLeod frowned and wondered if the oddly chosen dress might be an indicator that the man might be more than just human - maybe even an unknown Immortal...

"You here because this bar is about to be invaded by Martians or because you're in search for company?" Adam Pierson spoke up in that moment.

The man next to him blinked a bit surprised at that, before he actually focused on the man sitting next to him.

"Huh," he said surprised. "It's you."

Adam just raised an eyebrow at that exclamation.

"It's always me when you're without a companion for a longer time and bored... or lonely. God knows, you're faster lonely than bored."

The man next to him contemplated that for a second.

"Yep," he agreed the next moment and beamed at the serious looking young man next to him. "But then - I could go to Rose and ask her to come with me... so why should I come to you instead?"

Adam just raised an eyebrow at the man.

"You might come to take her today or tomorrow for her - but right now, you're obviously not looking for someone who's looking up to you but for someone... dare I say 'equal'?"

The man scratched his nose.

"Actually," he said. "I'm looking for someone who can't die that easily on me. My next trip might get a bit... _messy_ , you know?"

At that, Adam sighed.

"So... a few hundred years of mortal danger for me?"

That, the maybe-Immortal contemplated again.

"Yep," he finally agreed. "You interested?"

Adam rolled his eyes and emptied his beer bottle.

"As long as you don't drag me back to the Time War again, I'm game."

And before Joe could say anything, Adam left the bar with the stranger – just to return about two hours later a bit worse for wear.

"I need a beer, Joe," he said, slumping down in his old chair.

Joe raised his eyebrow at him.

"Didn't you have five just two hours ago?" He asked.

Adam sighed and rolled his eyes.

"After being dragged into the damn French Revolution I'm sure I'm allowed to have another one, Joe," he countered tiredly.

Joe raised an eyebrow at the metaphor, but in the end decided to give up another beer to Don Salzar's protégé.

 

* * *

 

Opening the door to his home was always one of the most dangerous acts Death had ever done in his whole life.

"No," he said, staring at the picture of those sad looking three persons in front of his door – alright, two persons and an alien – all drenched to the core in… actually, Death didn't even want to know.

It was green, it was slimy – and Death definitely, definitely didn't want to know…

"No," he repeated instead, trying to convey his absolute refusal in that word alone.

Obviously, it didn't work.

"We just need a shower, the moment we're done, we're off again," the alien tried to reassure Death.

Said man's eyes narrowed.

"This is the sixteenth century, Doctor," he said, absolutely unimpressed with the man – or alien – he was conversing with. "If you want a shower, you have to go somewhen else – preferably as far away from me and this time as you can manage."

The girl next to the alien blinked at that surprised.

"Wait," she said. "You know what a shower is?"

Death send her a scathing look and the Doctor next to her patted her on the shoulder.

"He's been one of my companions of and on over the years," he assured her, not intimidated at all by the glare he received from Death. "Now, come on, Clara, Jack – let's take a look at a bathroom of the sixteenth century…"

And when Death opened his mouth to object, the Doctor just waved it off, totally unimpressed.

"Not the typical bathroom for this time, I know," he told Death. "But we need some place to clean up anyway – we don't want to scare the neighbours, after all…"

In the end, Death just rolled his eyes and stepped aside.

"As if you haven't scared them already," he said. "But I swear to you, Doctor, the next time you forget me with the dinosaurs you won't get off that easily!"

With that, a confused looking Clara and Jack were led to the facilities, the Doctor wandering next to them down the halls, looking at everything with interest in his eyes.

"You redecorated," he commented.

"Someone saw it fit to bring some Daleks to my abode," the man countered stonily. "The last time I looked, blowing up my home to destroy them is a good reason for redecoration."

The Doctor just blinked at that.

"Daleks?" He repeated surprised. "I brought Daleks to your home?"

For a moment, the Doctor mulled about that little fact, then his eyes lightened up.

"Ah! It was that occasion – the one shortly before… and…"

"Yes," Death interrupted him. "Exactly. And it definitely wasn't the first time…"

At that, the Doctor looked a bit guilty.

"The Cybermen were an accident," he assured Death.

Said man just raised an eyebrow.

"And the Daleks weren't?" he countered.

The Doctor opened his mouth at that, just to close it again and look at Death oddly.

"So… no more trips with me?" the Doctor finally just asked innocently when they had reached the dressing room situated before the bathroom.

The answer was an eye roll and a slammed door to his face.

"Doesn't seem as if you parted amicable," Clara commented when the door opened again and the Doctor was pelted with clothes.

"Ah," the Doctor replied. "He's always like that – but he never says 'no' if I ask him to come with me anyway."

And with that he happily vanished to clean himself up.

Clara and Jack just looked at each other.

Then Clara shook her head.

"Sometimes, I truly don't understand the Doctor," she commented. "Or any of his acquaintances…"

But then, she wasn't the only one who thought like that…

 

* * *

 

Joe sat down next to the man with a beer bottle in his hands. It was - at least - the third beer the man was drinking and Joe had to keep from shaking his head at the man. Nevertheless, he sat down next to him at the bar.

For a moment, silence reigned between the two men. Then, Joe, after looking around and ensuring that they were alone, spoke up.

"Say, old man," he said, driven by his curiosity. "Isn't it lonely after a while?"

The old man - looking barely in his late twenties - raised an eyebrow at the older looking man.

"Isn't what lonely?" He asked, clearly not that inclined to talk - not that it stopped Joe.

"Living," he replied. "I guess it can get lonely after a while - especially if there's nobody you can truly talk to and be you anymore."

The old man frowned.

"If I wanted to talk to anybody, I could talk to another Immortal," he pointed out.

Now it was Joe's turn to frown.

"Only if you wanted them to explore your weaknesses," he replied. "I bet, there's no one in this world anymore who truly knows the man Methos behind the legend - and that, that's what must make living quite lonely."

For a moment or two, the old man kept his silence. Then he sighed and shook his head.

"Actually," he said. "I'm quite happy if I meet someone who doesn't know the real me. It's a lot less tiring that way."

Joe blinked, a bit surprised by that answer.

"You make it sound as if half of the world knows you..." he finally settled on commenting.

The old man rolled his eyes.

"No," he said. "Not half of the world. Just one or two persons."

Joe looked at him in surprise.

"So... there's actually someone out there who knows the real you?"

The old man raised his eyebrow.

"You know that you're one of those who know me as well," he pointed out. "You and MacLeod."

"I don't think that we know you good enough to actually say we know you," Joe objected. "So if you count us, think again."

The old man snorted.

"Actually," he confessed. "I didn't."

"So there's someone out there who knows about you and whom you see often enough to ensure that he keeps knowing you," Joe commented and wondered who else was there after the death of the horsemen.

The old man took another swing of his beer.

"I wish it was solely often enough that they keep knowing me," he complained.

Joe raised an eyebrow and the old man shook his head tiredly.

"Sadly," he elaborated. "I'm quite happy when I go by half a century without being dragged off to meet the dinosaurs by them..."

 

* * *

 

"Sometimes I wonder if you have a death wish," was the first thing the Doctor heard when he opened his eyes. To his surprise, the words were spoken in actual Gallifreyan – the same Gallifreyan the Doctor had heard his own parents… or those who raised him after his looming?... speak when he was nothing but a Time Tot.

The Doctor blinked and looked around.

Wherever he was – he had never been here before.

Before he could contemplate it further, a hand had reached out to him and handed him a wooden cup full of water.

"Drink," the same speaker from before said. "After trying to kill yourself by not drinking anything at all, you must be parched."

The Doctor couldn't even object to that observation.

He reached out, but the man was the one who actually helped him to rehydrate himself.

"Sometimes I wonder why I even bother," the man next to the Doctor's bed said with a shake of his head, still speaking Gallifreyan as if he had been raised speaking it. For a moment, the Doctor wondered if the TARDIS was actually translating the other man's language, but in the next moment, the Doctor dismissed that thought. The movement of the man's lips and the words were in sync – there was no way that the TARDIS was translating anything…

"Who… where?" The Doctor managed to say, then he remembered. "Rose!"

"Sleeping on the other side of the tent," the man replied, gesturing towards the sleeping girl not too far away from him. "Honestly," the man shook his head. "I thought with your extraordinary brain you would refrain from walking anywhere near the camp of the infamous Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

The Doctor blinked at that, then he finally understood what his brain had tried to tell him all along.

"You're Death," he said.

The man, Death, shrugged.

"In a way," he replied before standing up from the floor next to the Doctor's bed. "And now hurry up and get well. I can't hide you and your companion from Kronos and the rest for forever!"

The Doctor blinked at that, then he decided to go with the flow.

"How 'bout you come with us?" He asked. "Maybe to Jupiter or…"

"Bring the girl home and get her some rest," was Death's curt reply. "If you still feel lonely afterwards, you have my permission to come back and take me wherever you want – it's not as if I'd be missed after all…"

And the Doctor wondered for the first time, when he had actually met the man who had been called 'Death' by his mind so easily…

"Deal?" He said instead of voicing his wonder.

Knowing and amused golden eyes looked back at him from a face painted half blue.

"Deal."

It wouldn't be the first and also not the last time that they adventured together – but then, Death had always been the Doctor's most steady companion in life…

 

* * *

 

Meeting Methos changed Duncan's life - at least a bit. After finding out that Adam Pierson wasn't just a researcher but Methos himself, Duncan had never expected how much and at the same time how little his life would change thanks to the man...

Duncan was still in his dojo every day, training and teaching. He was still going to Joe's Bar, drinking beer and talking to Joe... and he was still teaching Richie like before. Yet, his life had changed as well. While renovating his house, Methos came by and stayed for a while. While drinking at Joe's, Methos came by, having a beer as well and while training at the dojo Methos came by to challenge him or to watch.

It was a routine - a new kind of routine but a routine nevertheless.

"What happened to you?" Duncan asked with a frown. "You look like a drowned rat who has been through a war or two."

Methos looked at him unhappily. His formerly creme-coloured jumper was dirty, ripped and partly burned. His black jeans were in the same state and his hair was dirty and singed.

He was also wet.

**_Extremely wet._ **

"I was left to swim in the Thames," Methos replied with a sigh. "You got some clothes for me?"

For a moment, Duncan just stared at his friend while wondering if he should point out that the Thames was in London and they were currently in Seacouver... but in the end, another question won out.

"Don't you have your own clothes?" Duncan frowned.

The answer was a sigh.

"Not here," Methos answered grumpily and stepped past Duncan into the house. "Do me a favour and don't let in the mad man with a blue box, will you, Highlander?"

"Mad man with a blue box?" Duncan repeated uncomprehendingly.

"You will know when you see his grin. There's no way to miss him," was the grumpy reply before Methos vanished into Duncan's bathroom to clean up.

For a moment, Duncan just stared at his closed bathroom door, then he shook his head, decided that Methos had a bad day and went to get some clothes.

He was about to leave the clothes in front of the bathroom when there was a knock on his door.

Duncan blinked, put the clothes down in front of the bathroom door and then returned to the door to open it.

"Hi!" A madly grinning individual greeted him. "I know you don't know me, yet, but I'm looking for a friend of mine. Tall, very slim and maybe a bit wet. Have you seen him?"

Duncan opened his mouth to object, but before he could even think about doing so, the man passed him by and entered his home just to walk up to Duncan's bathroom door and open it as well.

Methos from the inside groaned.

"Didn't I tell you not to let in the mad man with a blue box, Highlander?" He asked exasperated.

"As if I'd have asked to enter," the mad man countered before gesturing outside. "C'mon. Let's go on!"

"You left me wet and dirty stuck near the Highlander's place for a whole regeneration and now you come and want me to follow?" Methos replied, sounding sarcastic. "Don't you think you're a bit late for forgiveness?"

The mad man frowned.

"I thought I left you here just for an hour or two tops," he countered. "That should be short enough not to warrant your anger."

"Regeneration," Methos pointed out coolly.

The mad man shrugged.

"At least I remembered to get you this time around?" He offered innocently.

"Isn't your best argument considering that there have been times when there were three of me running around," countered Methos. "And we're not talking about hours but centuries with three of me!"

"Well... but currently there's just one -"

Methos pointed at himself with a glare.

"Alright, two," the man corrected himself and winced. "It's not as if I'm not here to correct that! I came back!"

"A whole regeneration later - and I'm not too sure that you remembered me by yourself!" Methos countered, not bothered at all by the fact that he was barely wearing a towel.

"Ah... you might have to remind me of coming here the next time you see this face," the mad man said, not too bothered by the fact that he actually hadn't remembered on his own.

"Nice,"Methos said dryly. "So I am my own cavalry."

Duncan just looked a bit confused from one man to the other.

In the end, Methos sighed.

"You truly need a companion right now, huh?" The other man looked a bit sheepish at that.

"You know me, Death," he said. "I'm simply not made to be alone."

And while Duncan gawked at the man calling Methos 'Death' as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Methos rolled his eyes and then followed the man out of the door.

"But I'm deciding where we go to. I have no interest in crashing Cleopatra's party ever again," Duncan heard him say before they were off to who knows where, leaving a confused and gawking Duncan behind at his doorstep.

_So much for Methos' Horseman days being over..._

 

* * *

 

Once at a time, far earlier than people later would know, a man was living in a cave, teaching a child who was just like him – and yet so different as well.

"Say," the boy-child asked. "Why do you tell me everything about the world when you're sure that I won't be able to stay with you?"

The man reached out to the boy and clasped his shoulder.

"Because you might need to know it in the future, my child," he said. "You can never know what you might need sometimes later in your life."

And the child nodded, agreeing with the man so similar and yet so different to himself.

 

* * *

 

The evening was quite young and the only persons at the bar were Duncan, Joe and the old man – at least until a stranger stepped inside and sat down next to Methos.

The oldest Immortal just looked at him shortly, before rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his beer.

The newcomer meanwhile seemed to be bothered by one very important thought – a thought that he finally decided to share without any kind of introduction to the issue at all…

"You are aware that your species is trying to commit genocide?" The man next to Methos asked with interest. Originally, the man shouldn't even have enough knowledge to ask a question like that, but Methos was oddly unbothered by the stranger's question as if he expected it against all odds.

"Well, yes," Methos replied calmly, not even trying to deny anything. "But the last time I tried to listen to you and stop it I gained a bloody title thanks to those actions. Forgive me if I'm not that inclined to repeat the experience."

"You turned into Death because you wanted to stop the Game?" Duncan asked surprised, not sure what to make of the man with a fez on his head who had sat down next to Methos just to ask that awkward question.

Methos rolled his eyes.

"No," he replied, sounding a bit annoyed. "I turned into Death to flee my damn title, MacLeod!"

"Your title?" Duncan asked frowning and Methos rolled his eyes.

"Methos, the oldest Immortal," he said. "Believe me, after gaining a title like that you would also change into Death just to flee it!"

The man next to Methos shot him an odd look at that.

"That's… one way to put it," he finally agreed.

Methos shot him a smile, before clasping the stranger's shoulder, leaning close.

"Everything else is and should stay between you and me, Doctor," he replied – and Duncan somehow got the feeling that Methos had been lying somehow… yet, for his life, Duncan couldn't say where the lie had been hidden in Methos' words…

 

* * *

 

Thousands of years earlier, a man met a boy, starting a story that would weave itself throughout time and space and far deeper into the future than most would ever know...

"Where are you from, little boy?"

The child just looked at the man with huge, uncomprehending eyes.

So he smiled at the child who was looking him over.

Not far from the child, something foreign had crashed into the earth. He couldn't tell what it had originally been, but now it looked broken and absolutely destroyed.

It looked like it didn't belong to earth – so he drew some conclusions from that as well.

"Well, little one," he said. "You're definitely not one of my own."

Then he smiled at the child again.

"But that doesn't actually matter, does it, my child?" He reached out to the child and touched him. "You're mine now."

With those words, the oldest Immortal of the world would meet someone he would know all of his life…

 

* * *

 

"Why can't I remember?!" The Doctor actually sounded frustrated, looking at his drink with a frown. "If you and I truly met in my past – shouldn't I remember it if I searched my memories for it?"

The Immortal next to him just smiled at him.

"Our meeting was a long time ago, Doctor," he replied. "Back then, you were someone different – and I was it as well."

The Doctor frowned at his companion.

"It shouldn't matter. Your face alone should be able to draw out my memories of that time if I just concentrate on it," he countered.

The Immortal just smiled and shook his head.

"Not, if it was so long ago that even your phenomenal memory would have a hard time remembering it," he answered. "Think about it as generations of regenerations ago."

The Doctor looked up at that, surprise plainly visible on his current face.

"How many regenerations are we talking about?" He asked, for the first time fully focusing on the man next to him.

The other man smiled.

"As many as there are," he replied. "As many as there are, my beloved little Time Tot."

And when the Doctor looked at his eternal companion, for the first time he finally truly understood who had been by his side all along – _**for all of his life…**_

 

* * *

 

Once, years, maybe eons ago, a tiny Time Tot went missing in the width of the universe. He had taken his parents TARDIS and instead of going to school, tried to navigate it like his father normally did - just to crash-land it on a planet that would be known as 'Earth' some times in the future.

And maybe this crash-landing would have been the last thing people heard about the little toddler - if the universe hadn't cried out in desperation for his survival. While the survival of one normally didn't matter in the face of time, this one was special. He would one day grow up to be the protector of earth and the reason for the survival of the universe... and so, the universe cried out for help.

Surprisingly, it was the most unexpected being – some even might call it a deity – that answered that call.

"Where are you from, little boy?"

The TARDIS taken by the little Tot was too damaged to translate, so the answer of the little Tot was in Gallifreyan and therefore not understandable for the deity in the form of a human.

"Well, little one," the deity said. "You're definitely not one of my own."

Then it smiled.

"But that doesn't actually matter, does it, my child?" With that, the deity reached out to the Tot, touching him, reaching his soul and changing it with that simple touch. "You're mine now."

And the deity took the child with it to raise it as one of its own.

It would take years until the Time Tot's parents would find him. Aggrieved with the imprudence of their son, they took the child and brought him back to Gallifrey, giving him over to the High Council to change the child's past so that he never grew up with his parents or left Gallifrey to travel with his father's TARDIS. Instead, from then on the child should remember being loomed and having grown up within the specific wishes of the Great House who took him in after he was loomed.

And while a change like that should have been easy to make, something remained with the child… something foreign, something different – like the touch of a deity that shouldn't have ever had anything to do with the tiny Tot and yet had raised him for years anyway.

Touched like that, the Tot would forever be drawn to the place the deity he called father for more years than he would ever remember called home.

_Earth._

 

* * *

 

"Who are you?" The tiny Time Tot repeated, looking at the Time Lord-like being in front of him – a being he knew couldn't be a Time Lord because unlike with Time Lords, the Vortex was shaking and retreating from the man as if it was worshipping him higher than anything else in the whole universe.

The answer was a smile from the being who would take in the child in front of him – and who hadn't understood the Tot just a second ago.

"I am Death," he said, the word shaking with the power of truth in the vortex in a way not even Rassilon's true name would have. "And who are you, my tiny Time Tot?"

The Tot looked at Death with wide eyes for a second or two.

Then he returned the smile hesitatingly.

"I am…"

* * *

 

" _ **Say, old man, isn't it lonely after a while?"**_

_If Joe would have known what his question actually meant to the being now called Methos, he would have never asked…_

_But then, how should he have known, that Death's companion had always been, and might always be the Doctor?_

 

* * *

 


End file.
